


Twilight Bridge

by MadameMeduse



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Feral Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, I will try to write smut but I am a fluffy ball of harmony and anxiety, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Masturbation, Opposites Attract, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Reincarnation, Self-Harm, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, no beta we die like renfri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27997059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameMeduse/pseuds/MadameMeduse
Summary: A blue eyed demon meets a scarred angel with a silver blade and suddenly, the fragile peace between the realms of heaven and hell is at stake. As well as their hateful hearts.Or: Angel/Demon AU, because my muse Giddy posted a prompt on Twitter and allowed me to use the motive. Thank you!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 70





	1. Prelude - Of angels and demons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [giddytf2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giddytf2/gifts).



> So, this is about a (fantasy) religion. About god and the devil, angels and demons. If you don't like the topic and you might feel offended, please don't read this.

The lone dark figure lurked on the rooftop of the decrepit midtown hotel and stared up into the night sky. He could hear every word that was spoken in the dirty rooms beneath his feet, the moans of desperate lovemaking, a TV on maximum volume screaming out the latest news and the soft whine of an infant child.

A baby. The lean man sighed deeply. He _liked_ babies, the promising smell of an innocent soul ready to be broken down by the reality of human life. Whenever possible, he would creep into a child’s room and listen to their soft breathing, watching their undisturbed sleep. Oh, they didn’t know that there was only pain and death to follow when finally growing up.

It was intoxicating. It was – sad, sort of. Losing the illusion of safety and consistency was always sad. Even for him.

Dark clouds gathered far above the demon’s head. Thunder rolled and electricity, raw, untamed energy lit the sky for a second, crashing down onto the earth in a far distance. The demon smiled and spread his wings. Obsidian black feathers rustled in the fresh wind and he tilted his head back and let out a content laugh as cold raindrops hit his face.

He was soaking wet seconds later and the fine black suit he wore clung to his chest, a pleasant sensation that reminded him of _something_ every time he felt it. An echo of the past, maybe. A memory long forgotten, being reduced to a hum in his heart, not painful, just omnipresent and annoying, sometimes.

The inhuman shriek that filled the humid air immediately caught his attention and his unnatural blue eyes snapped open. It seemed that somewhere in this rotten city, the dark seed that had was planted into every human’s soul at birth had born its most disgusting fruit once again.

The demon laughed in delight, plump lips forming a toothy smile on his even facial features. Most members of the human race just carried the seed and accepted it as part of their existence, sometimes giving into its enticements. A human's inner conflict tasted deliciously, a sweet and spoilt treat. Demons loved it. They craved it.

Only a few mortal beings fully embraced and cultivated the seed, committed atrocious crimes and every possible sin, bathing in the feeling of absolute darkness that forgave everything and cleared the consciousness of any feeling of remorse. And then, one day, the human's flesh form would break like a worn down shell and something new would emerged, a disfigured creature, all claws and jaws and rotten flesh. The Forgotten. These atrocities were lost to the world of the living as well as to the world of demons and angels.

Because when there was no conflict, there was no feast for the demons and no leverage point for the angels's attempts to save a tormented soul. In other words, these creature were boring as – hell. The young demon chuckled at his own mental pun.

Speaking of angels.

He checked his claws languidly and slowly counted to ten. Heaven didn’t disappoint him, as usual. Alongside with another natual lightning emerging from the dark anthracite clouds there was a ray of pure silver light that descended to earth. The ozone smell of the rainstorm was instantly replaced by the scent of freshly mown summer grass and honey.

The demon rolled his eyes. _Always so dramatic, these creatures of light._ He wanted to puke, but instead decided to join the show. It wasn’t a common sight to witness the battle between an angelic host and one of the Forgotten. Flesh and gore and other body fluids, oh, what a joy. The demon considered buying popcorn, but it would take time to fly to his favourite cinema and he wouldn’t dare to miss all the fun.

The Forgotten had broken its human shell somewhere in the southern district of the town and the young demon’s wings carried him safely onto another roof. A water tank, this time. _Quite old fashioned_ , he thought as he sat down, long longs dangling elegantly over the brink of the tank.

The junkyard was piled up with rusting cars, busses and motorcyles, forming intriguing, twisted towers that cast long, menacing shadows. Something was hiding there, swaying, waiting. The demon could hear the clatter of giant insect mandibles and rose his eyebrows in surprise. It wasn’t just one creature, it was two of them. That was indeed special, because darkness itself was a jealous thing and seldom accepted rivals. The demon knew it too well, as his own race also was of a solitary kind.

The demon bent forward slightly and grinned excitedly as another flash of silver heat announced the arrival of the heavenly army. God's white winged emissaries were terribly reliable. Demons didn’t care about the Forgotten, but the army of angels had sworn a holy oath to hunt down the cursed creatures until the end of time. What a hellish waste of perspective for an immortal life.

Oh, another pun. What a glorious night!

Well, technically, demons and angels _could_ die. The separation of body and head was extremely unhealthy, but most other injuries would heal quickly after a few hours or days. But yet, there was the Secret. Every immortal possessed it, no matter if angel or demon. The Secret was something the humans called an ‘Achilles Heel’. That term that had been invented long ago during an epoch when angels and demons had taken an active part in human history, before the angels had been retreating to the Everlasting Paradise, becoming terribly boring and snooty.

Getting hurt at that specific spot would be the irreversible end for every outerworldly creature that existed in the realm of the living. And even in between.

There was only one angel. The demon blinked in surprise as he spotted the tall figure that strode over the junkyard, proud and upright. Where was his host? A Sword, the fighter of an angelic host, would normally be accompanied by the Light and the Soul, helping him or her to fulfil their tasks. But this man was alone and he didn’t falter as the two Forgotten crept out of the shadows to meet him in the centre of the yard.

A mellow, warm aura surrounded the angel. His white hair and the sharp blade of the impressive sword he was holding in his hands shone like beacons in the night.

The fight was quick and brutal. As soon as the monsters lunged forward, the angel met them in one furious thrust. Acid black blood splattered everywhere as the silver blade cut off one of the creatures’ legs and hurt the other one’s mandibles. Screaming with rage and pain, the Forgotten attacked again and a shower of bites and kicks forced the angel to retreat and parry the heavy blows that rained down onto his body.

God's fighter was strong and elegant, his moves resembled a carefully choreographed dance and against his will, the demon bit his lip with his pointy canine teeth, suddenly filled with anxious anticipation. There was no way a solitary angel would be able to kill two Forgotten. It was a shame, the demon thought and shivered as a sharp claw ripped the angel's chest open. The white, opaque colour of the man's blood bloomed on the muddy ground like lilies on a fresh grave.

It would be over soon, the demon told himself as he stood and turned away, brushing some non-existing dirt off his dark wings. So much for a night of fun. But then he heard the desperate howls of the creatures and threw a final glance over his shoulder. Oh. The sound of the fight died away and silence returned to the junkyard.

The angel had fallen, but so had the Forgotten. Their half insectoid, half monstrous bodies already began to decay and soon, there wouldn't be anything left but a large pile of dust dissolving in the rain.

As for God's fighter, he was lying on his back on the soft cushion of his wings, eyes closed, blood oozing from several deep cuts and stab wounds. The shining liquid pooled under his once powerful, now terribly lifeless body. The precious silver sword was still in his hand, but his large fingers had loosened their grip around the weapon's hilt.

The demon hesitated only for a second and jumped down to the ground, splashing mud and white blood all over his trousers. He groaned in annoyance. It was his favourite suit, after all.

An angel's sword was a rare treasure and most demons would pay an unbelievable high price for such a unique item. It wasn't about such mundane things as money. It was about territories and favours, about making an impression in the city's demon society. He wouldn't miss this one in a lifetime opportunity.

The demon knelt, carefully folding away his wings. His fingertips caressed the sword's crossguard. It was a work of art, depicting two wolves' heads, teeth bared, growling. His skin hurt as he touched the celestial metal. The pristine beauty of the weapon crept into his veins and reminded him that there was no pure spot in his soul.

He sighed, again and looked up from his hand that was forcefully gripping the sword hilt. His breath hitched as he finally saw the fallen man's face from a close distance for the first time. The angel was beyond beautiful, even though he was covered in mud and blood. His body was broad and packed with heavy muscles, marking him out as the warrior he was. The white hair was incredibly dirty, but still looked soft and silky. The cleft in his strong chin was very inviting, the perfect spot to press a thumb into and use it to bent his head down for a kiss.

The demon wondered about the deep scars that furrowed the angel's face. All the heavenly creatures he had seen and battled against in his life ( _“Ahaha at that!”_ ) had been flawless, but this one seemed to be different. Why would a loving God allow that his warrior suffered under such a disfiguration?

Was the angel being punish? Could the heavenly emissaries even disobey so a punishment would be appropriate?

The presumed dead body groaned and the demon flinched. Oh, shit. He had been struck by the sheer beauty of the celestial warrior and totally forgotten to check if the angel was really dead. Time to go. But there was still one thing the demon wanted to know, curious little cat that he was. Casting aside all caution, he leaned closer and waited for the fighter to regain consciousness.

Golden. The angel's eyes were golden as the sunset on a bright autumn day. Like a Spanish doubloon or molten caramel. And very, very furious.

“You”, the warrior growled from the depth of his still bleeding chest. He coughed and a gush of blood sprayed from his lips. “I'll kill you”, he rasped. His body spasmed as he tried to grab his sword, but the demon stood within half a second and unfolded his wings with a nonchalant flap.

“Gotta go”, he smirked and swung up into the rain. “And thank you.”


	2. Crashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I will try to write something erotic and I am stumbling upon each word. Let's see how this turns out in the end. :) Maybe I am just too shy for smutty things.

The underground club was filled with cigarette smoke and the heavy perfume of arousal. A soft, seductive tune emerged from the speakers hidden in the ceiling, a slow beat that vibrated in the guests' bodies, straining their senses, leaving them with numb anticipation of _something_ to happen.

Most of the black velvet curtains that divided the cosy private rooms from the main lounge with its decadent plush chairs had been closed and the moans and muffled gasps from the inside of the alcoves left nothing to imagination.  
The young demon leaned back into his opulent chair and took a sip from his glass, enjoying the rich taste of old cognac. He comfortably crossed his long legs and glanced at a couple that left for one of the private rooms, already semi dressed and panting.

The man was a human, face flushed with lustful daze. His companion, a tall blonde demoness in an ox blood red latex dress, teasingly caressed the veritable bulge that had formed in the man's trousers with her claws. Such a pairing wasn't uncommon, as both of them would profit from their sensual encounter. The demoness would feed from the human's lust and remorse and the man would simply enjoy raw, untamed sex that would fulfil his darkest needs. Though he wouldn't remember what had happened when he woke the next morning, sore and exhausted, he would recover soon. Soon, his desires would lead him to the club again and the game of humiliation and submission would recommence once more.

“I heard you have an interesting offer.” Dark grey feathers whispered a musky scent as the club's owner sank into a chair and his wings retreated into his body. He wore biker boots and a black leather suit that clung to his toned figure like a second skin. The demon waitress who served him a glass of port wine shot him a hungry glance, but retreated immediately as he furrowed his dark brows. Clearly a man who didn't mix business and pleasure, even if his business _was_ exactly that.

“Thanks for meeting me, Lambert”, the young demon smiled lasciviously and openly admired the other man's clean shaven beard and the combed back hair that highlighted his prominent cheekbones. “Indeed I own something of immense value and I would be willing to sell it for a certain amount of – generosity.”

Lambert's grin was slow and all pointy teeth. His leather jacket rustled as he took his glass and rose it in a mock salute.

“Directly down to the point. Are you always that blunt, Julian?”

“You have no idea”, the demon murmured and licked his cognac scented lips. He tried everything to not appear nervous, but the atmosphere didn't help at all to ease his strained nerves. It's been two days since the encounter with the angel and whenever he looked back at that fateful night, he asked himself why in hell he had taken the sword. Greed would have been the obvious answer and surely the right one for a demon. But -. Julian cleared his throat and realized Lambert's yellow eyes where penetrating him right to the core.

“Tell me what it looks like as I assume you haven't brought it with you”, the club owner demanded and waved his hand impatiently. “And what you want.”

Julian forced another smile and told his body to relax. He could feel the pressure of his own wings between his shoulder blades, urging him to leave this place and the erotic atmosphere that began to creep under his skin. It had been a long time since he had been with another person, too long, and his body ached for touch and closeness.

“I thought about the retirement homes in the 5th street”, he began and gently brushed a strand of his dark chestnut hair from his forehead. It was a decent demand, nothing too greedy, but of an importance that would benefit his reputation. And it would allow him to watch 'The price is right' on a regular basis, so it would be also a solid contribution to his personal fun. Feeding from old peoples' anger about the things they hadn't been able to afford in life was a lovely thing. Sometimes Julian caught himself thinking that there was no real need for demons or angels. Because humans were extremely good at turning their life into their own special hell. “The object is around four feet long. The crossguard shows two wolves' heads with bared teeth. The blade has been engraved with runes that glow as soon as I touch the object.”

Lambert' eyebrows shot up, but the rest of his handsome face remained stony as he summoned the waitress again with a sharp hand sign. She appeared within seconds and bent down to listen to what her boss told her. Her low cut corset exposed a cream white bosom and Julian found himself staring again. Beauty came in any form that life decided to form into and he craved all of it. 

Suddenly he recalled the aureate glow of the sword's owner and found it hard to concentrate on overhearing what the club owner and his lovely employee had to discuss before the girl strode away on her high heels. But their voices had been too low and so Julian decided to take his time and bask in the remembrance of the angel's scarred masculinity. He noticed that he wondered about how it would feel to touch a celestial being without the intention to hurt it.

Julian was young, merely five-hundred human years, but he had fought a lot of battles during this period. After being born in a fully functional, adult demon body, he had spent endless years enjoying to destroy and kill whatever he wanted gone. Humans, angels, he hadn't spared a though about his motives. There had been no particular reason for his hate, but it had been fuelled by a burning spark inside of his chest that had driven him forward, from continent to continent, taking part in large battles and personal combats with all kind of living being. He vividly remembered the sensation of ripped white feathers caressing his skin like a lover's touch and the fresh smell of hot human blood.

But his desire to destroy had dulled over the years, being replaced by a strange yearning he wouldn't dare to describe to any other demon. They would mercilessly exploit what they would consider a weakness and maybe they were right to do so, reminding him what he _was_ and would always be until somebody finally cut him down.

“Where is the sword?”, Lambert addressed him coolly and Julian re-emerged from his memories with a flinch. The young demon laughed breathlessly, trying to cover his sudden discomfort. The air seemed to thicken with every second passing and he felt hot and edgy.

“Dear friend, please don't feel insulted, but I prefer the weapon to be locked away at a safe space until we come to a favourable agreement.”

Lambert's mouth twitched and this time, Julian instinctively knew he was in trouble. The club owner was a famous dealer in stolen goods and known to be sort of reliable, but his behaviour felt odd and crooked. Something was wrong.  
The young demon stood within the blink of an eye and bolted towards the exit, the tips of his wings already emerging from his body, not giving a fuck if one of the few human club's guest saw them. Luckily the narrow staircase was deserted and seconds later, he pushed the massive steel door open and jolted up to leave the street as soon as possible, black wings unfolding with a sharp clap, driving him up into the starry sky.

The first arrow hit his right wing, pinning it to his shoulder blade and he crashed down on the concrete with a scream of agony. Hot pain seared through his body and he gasped for air, but pushed himself up again to run. The second arrow pierced his knee pit and blocked the whole limb within seconds.

He fell to his hands and knees and finally his instincts set in. His canines grew to their full length and his fingernails formed into claws, digging into the road surface in his attempt to get a grip on his pain. Blackness flooded his eyes, swallowed the blue and white he liked to show when he presented his human like form.

The changes allowed him to release his fury and the boiling rage replaced the weakness that tried so overwhelm his body. He stumbled to his feet again and yanked the arrow from his knee. A gush of dark blood trickled from the wound, gleaming in the streetlights like a pool of acid. His claws grabbed for the arrow's shaft that stuck out from his shoulder, but it sat to low to reach and he growled in frustration.

The sweet summer grass and honey overwhelmed him as he heard the sound of wings and two pairs of feet touching the ground. Julian turned around and hissed at the two angels who stared at him with indifferent faces.

“Coward. Shooting a man from behind”, he spat and bared his teeth at the female angel who still carried her bow, a third arrow already waiting at the string. The head of the arrow gleamed silvery in the dark of the night. The angel was a beauty as were all of her kin. Dark brown locks framed a soft, cinnamon toned face and she had a dead stare in her eyes that told Julian not to mess with her. Her small, curvy body was dressed in a soft, ivory colored linen ensemble consisting of wide trousers and a shirt whose left sleeve was covered by an archer's bracer. A quiver on her back contained enough arrows to pierce every limb of Julian's body.

The male angel spoke. He was a dark type, broad as a bear and his voice sounded low and somehow metallic. There was no need for this man to try for a menacing tone. His bodily presence alone was sufficient to keep Julian's mouth shut.

“A demon who steals a dying man's sword will not be met with kindness”, the angel rumbled and crossed his arms in front of his massive chest. He was as attractive as his female companion, but Julian was surprised that he felt a whiff of mental pain emerging from the massive figure. This angel was _suffering_ and it smelled excellently for the demon who finally understood that he wouldn't die tonight. The angels clearly hadn't come for vengeance, because if the had, he would be dead by now. They wanted their fallen brother's sword back. 

Julian laughed out in fake delight and met puzzled glances. Thinking of the graceful angel he had met as 'fallen' did something to him and he tried to brush if off. The pain that seared his wing from inside kept his mind sharp, but he knew he hadn't much time for proper negotiations.

“Don't you dare laughing at us, creature”, the female angel gritted and rose her bow again. Her companion shot her a fatherly gaze.

“Easy, Triss. There will be another battlefield.” It was a promise and a threat, softly spoken, like silk gliding over a razorblade. “Creature, give us the sword and you will live for another day.”

The demon's lips curled into another mocking smile.

“Forgive me, but after this little scene, I demand more reassurance than your word. I suggest we start proper negotiations another day because I feel bored and tired.”

Julian managed to straighten his black suit jacket with bloody fingers without even trembling and as he found himself to be still alive, he congratulated himself on his instincts. Fucking Lambert and the angels wanted the same, maybe they even worked together. That thought was new and the demon blinked in surprise. Why? He needed to solve this delightful little riddle.

The large angel frowned and nodded reluctantly. He knew they were trapped in a standoff situation and tried to make the best out of it.

“Only you and one of us. Twilight Bridge, tomorrow at dusk”, he suggested and Julian bowed slightly.

“Twilight Bridge”, the demon repeated with a smug grin. “I can't wait.”


	3. The losing game

When Earth was created out of the rubble of the universe by ancient sentient forces and life began to evolve, Heaven and Hell soon developed as the manifestations of what the first mortal beings considered good and bad. Belief and morals formed a never-ending, but always changing darkness that cherished everything that was considered sinful and its heavenly counterpart, where everything was light, easy and full of relief. Two equally mighty realms who both had a justification to exist and take part in the eternal struggle for the equilibrium of the powers.

So the conflict that took place in every mortal soul on the planet had been split in these two realms, allowing the humans to live in peace in their own world. Nobody knew if God and the Devil were the sole powers behind creation, but the angels never dared to question the lessons they had learned and the demons just didn't care, because most of then hated philosophy and prefered to live in the moment rather than quarrelling with destiny.

Nevertheless, God and the Devil existed and so did their armies. The immortal soldiers had fought for centuries and there were strict laws that forbade mostly every interaction between them but battle.

After the angels had decided that it was their duty to retreat to the Everlasting Paradise some hundred years ago, allowing the creative humans to shape what should become the modern world, the demons had decided that they would step back as well.

Some of them didn't return to Hell and stayed, of course, but they tried to adjust to an Earth that was suddenly boring after their main enemies retreated and there were only had humans left to play with. Killing humans turned out to be no fun at all, because breaking their souls and bodies was too easy. So the demons had decided to feast on the mortals and use them as their emotional dairy cows.

The peace between the forces of Heaven and Hell still remained the fragile thing that it had always been and so, one day, every demon simply realized _somebody_ had created a neutral ground where the two parties could meet under the Law of Truce and Secrecy.

The demons soon found out that they only could reach the safe spot when there was a reason for a discreet visit – and that nothing done or spoken there would be known to other individuals outside of the intermediate meeting space.

Twilight Bridge, a place where dusk and dawn were the same. No light, no darkness. Just something right between Heaven, Hell and Earth, filled with a dim, soothing glow that would please both parties. It resembled a landscape with wide, untamed meadows, with groups of large deciduous trees whose purple leaves rustled in a warm, pleasant wind. Small streams whispered through pleasant little valleys, smelling of spicy autumn days and the sky was always illuminated in the most beautiful colours.

Julian waited, sitting under what resembled an oak tree, back resting against the massive stem. His body still hurt from the injuries he had suffered and he sighed, tilting his head up to look into the red and yellow sky. The obsidian black feathers of his wings had begun to regrow and he enjoyed the feeling of the slight tickle the healing flesh. He had spread the wings between his body and the tree and moved them now and then to regain their agility.

He had decided to wear a formal suit of the darkest blue and a white shirt with a high collar, but his shoes had turned out to be uncomfortable ('No wonder, new pairs always felt like _hell_!') and so he had gotten rid of them as soon as his feet had touched ground. Now, his bare toes dug into the soft earth and the sensation was so pleasant he found himself whistling a tune.

He stopped as the layer of existence that should feature Twilight Bridge's slighly clouded sky parted and a flash of white appeared in a field nearby. The demon rose and adjusted his cuffs before he approached the other lone figure in his smoothest stride.

The realization of his visitor's identity hit Julian like a bolt from the blue. He had expected the dark haired angel with the metallic voice but instead he met the amber eyes of the angelic warrior he had considered to be dead. The sword's owner. Terror and unexpected joy rushed through the demons veins as he cautiously approached the warrior.

“So you're alive”, he chirped with a huge grin and clapped his hands. “Would've been a pity, really. Quite an impressive performance at the junkyard, literally beating all odds.”

The angel shot him a cool glance and folded his muscular arms over his chest. Julian could spot the outline of bandages under the v-cut neckline of the white linen tunic the celestial warrior wore. Julian suddenly felt the urge to fan himself at the sight of such a fine specimen of masculinity and he was determined to savour every second of their encounter.

“Demon, Eskel said you have my sword”, the angel rumbled in a low, gravely voice, sparing any form of polite verbal foreplay. His tone sent another shivers through Julian's body, sending blood to his groin. “Give it to me, thief.”

The demon laughed and shook his head.

“The name is Julian, pleased to meet you. And I have merely saved what you couldn't protect, dear”, Julian murmured with a cheeky smirk and rose his eyebrows suggestively. “The least I deserve now is a proper conversation for compensation.”

The angel remained unimpressed by the constant flow of words that emerged for Julian's lips.

“You're just dragging this out so you can hide here”, he responded gruffly.

“Indeed I do”, the demon admitted cheerfully and began to retreat to the oak tree. It was oh so satisfactory to see the other man needed to follow him reluctantly, his broad frame dividing the high grass like a sailing ship breaking the ocean's waves. “Being shot in the back by that lovely curly lady wasn't particularly nice and I still need to recover. She's also a part of your angelic host, I suppose? The healer? Quite a surprise she turned out to be a sassy little _demon_.”

There was a flicker of guilt that dimmed the angel's eyes for a moment and the demon blinked in surprise. The code of honour the celestial beings had burdended themselves with was a surprise over and over again. And terribly annoying, but sometimes also pleasant. The unexpected display of emotion left Julian with a numb sensation of inner peace. It wasn't only Twilight Bridge that promised an unfamiliar measure of security; he had felt it as soon as the angel had touched ground in the field and it was driving him mad.

“But as I am not at all a rancorous person, I will pardon her for that little vengeful slip-up. Guess she was upset about you being hurt, hm?”

He made a show out of folding his wings and burying them in his body and sat down again, his back accidentally chaffing at the tree's bark. The contact made him wince and he bit down a pained sound. Looking up, he felt he would drown in the sight of the other man's toned body, the length of his legs and the strange scars that heightened the angel's rare beauty beyond measures.

Julian's fingertips tingled unpleasantly. He wanted his claws to come out, to grab what he was admiring, to touch, feel and mark. His own composure and the calm tone of his voice surprised him as he said:

“Come on, sit down, stranger. Let's talk. Gift me some information about yourself and I will tell you where that sword of yours is hidden. It's easy as that.”

The angel glanced down to the ground as if it was his personal enemy and finally sighed before he sat down with the animalistic grace of a panther. His posture remained stiff and tensed, ready to attack or to meet any assault the demon would come up with - even on neutral ground. Julian observed his companion from the corner of his eyes and licked his lips.

“A thief and a spy. Why am I not surprised”, the angel spat and his disgust emerged from his powerful body like a dark wave. The broad man stared at the horizon, his sharp facial features glowing in the twilight.

“So suspicious? I kept my word and came here, maybe it's time for a little trust?”, Julian grinned broadly. He enjoyed the game they were playing and the warrior's attempts to escape their conversation.

“Never.” The angel furrowed his silver streaked brows. “Demon aren't trustworthy. You came to this place because you are a coward and you want to hide from a fight.”

That accusation hurt more that Julian would have suspected. He drew in a sharp breath and tilted his head.

“Is it cowardice to renounce a fight?”

“It is cowardice to escape a well deserved punishment.”

“Yeah, because shooting somebody in the back for stealing something is such an appropriate punishment”, Julian muttered and rolled his eyes, but his overacting didn't work out as he had wanted. Bitterness dripped from his words. The young demon's chest tightened and the faint thud in his back revealed that he hadn't even noticed that his body had touched the oak's stem again. “Is that the famous angel logic they hammer into your beautiful heads up there in Heaven? That justice depends on the perspective and yours is always the right one?”

Suddenly the meeting didn't seem to be such a good idea any more. Being near the celestial being made him nervous and vulnerable. Julian was a lover of things, had been for all of his life, but seeking closeness with his counterpiece felt like a mistake and a temptation at the same time. His face fell and he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Geralt”, the angel said and Julian nearly toppled over, which would have been quite a sight, as he had been sitting. “My name is Geralt.”

“He's got a name!”, the demon exclaimed and pretended he had already found back to his cheerful self. “So, Geralt, I have decided to snub you with my sincerity, since it would be an immense pleasure to prove an angel wrong.”

Geralt's head whipped around and his golden eyes narrowed threateningly. The angel's shoulders vibrated impatiently.

“A liar's honesty is no safe ground for a negotiation”, he grumbled, but then bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Fine. What are your conditions?”

Their eyes met again and Julian felt that his smile was way too soft, but he still battled the strangest of feelings within himself. This wasn't about the other man's vibrant voice, his large calloused hands or his tight fitting linen pants. It was something old and long forgotten, maybe something Julian had never encountered before. He had no name for it. Desire? Lust? Revelation?

He knew he should get up and flee, as he was jeopardizing his existence, his reputation as a trickster and a crook, but his body decided he should remain right where he was, only one hand span away from the angel's breathtaking body.

“I will ask five questions and you will give me five honest answers, nothing more. I will grant you a leap of faith, as angels are known to be honest, true to their word, yadda, yadda, you know the text.” The corner's of Julians's mouth twitched as he saw that Geralt' s pupils blew wide with surprise. “You will only answer one of the questions today and I will tell you where to find this sword of yours. I expect you to return tomorrow for the other four.”

Geralt turned his head to stare at the horizon again and his face twitched in discomfort. A soft strand of white hair fell out of the tie on the back of his head, forming a translucent veil that the demon wanted to raise so badly that he needed to clech his hands into fists, burying his sharp fingertips into his palm.

“Fine”, the angel finally rasped and shot Julian a deeply annoyed glance. “But don't dare to deceive me, or -.”

The demon bared his pointy canine teeth and grinned half-heartedly. He was too far gone to give up now. His pride was the only thing that he had left at the moment.

“Then, I suggest that you don't let me deceive you, oh mighty Sword of God. It's all in your hands. Alright, question number one.” Julian made a dramatic pause and dared to lean into the angel's personal space, brushing their shoulders together.

It was a severe mistake.

A beam of warmth and light penetrated his skin, rippled through his arm muscles and spread into the rest of his body in perverse slowness. It wasn't painful, but the most heart wrenching sensation he had ever gone through. The small touch fill him with an amount of contentment and yearning that made his world turn and his body scream in agony. He wanted that again. He wanted _him_.

Geralt sprung to his feet and backed off with a snarl, iridiscent green grass brushing over his calves.

“What did you do, demon?”, the angel yelled and pressed his hand at his shoulder, clearly attempting to brush off the memory of the unwanted touch. Fury emerged from every pore as he slightly bent forward and moved into an attacking position, but he suddenly swayed and went pale. “How dare you?”

Julian's instincts told him to get up and defend himself. He wanted to lunge at the warrior and scratch his eyes out with his claws, but the aftermath of their touch had left him weak and boneless. So he just stumbled to his feet, held up his hands in defeat and was deeply ashamed about the tremor that ran through his arms.

“My first question is easy to answer”, Julian croaked, fully aware that his life was at stake. He knew his touch must had been painful and disgusting for Geralt, that I had felt like an attack of darkness and impurity. “Are you happy with your life?”

The angel froze and stared at Julian with murder in his eyes, but as he realized the demon was dead serious, his shoulders dropped slowly. He blinked, once, twice and his unusual eyes narrowed again. A painful inner turmoil shone in the amber depths and Julian congratulated himself on the verbal blow he had just landed. At the same time the young demon felt awful and didn't understand why. Hadn't he just bested an arrogant, celestial creature?

“No. I am not happy”, the angel said and heavy silence fell between them. A soft, warm wind rustled through the purpure leaves above theirs heads and the endless ocean of oddly illuminated grass. Julian closed his eyes and his head collided heavily with the tree trunk.

“Your sword is hidden in the basement of the 'Ultravox' cinema, 6th avenue. The grey crate with the 80s pulp movie spools.”

A sharp gush of air and a waft of warmth hit the demon's face. Geralt was gone. Julian knew the angel would be true to his word and return the next day. But the demon began to wonder if it would be wise to meet him again.


	4. Heat Prostration

Twilight Bridge was a safe haven, but it had its own strict rules. Julian had decided he would try to stay at the safe space as long as he could, but some time after the angel had left, the pull of the real world became unbearably strong and the demon found himself thrown back to Earth.

He reappeared at the small alley close to his loft apartment at dawn and nearly collided with a trash can as the sudden change of worlds sent him into an uncomfortable state of vertigo. A stray cat eyed him suspiciously and hissed at him as he bent down and tried to pet her.

Great. Everybody hated him today. He thought about buying lottery ticket, because things could only improve from now on. Not that he was in need for any money. The manipulation of mankind and a clever investment here and there had provided him with a decent home and as he entered his loft, he indeed felt relieved. After taking a quick sizzling hot shower, he spread his long limbs on the anthracite grey silk cover of his king size bed and enjoyed the luxurious feeling of carefree nakedness.

The steel beams crossing and stabilizing the high ceiling reflected the shine of the street lamps that filtered through the large windows of the former industry hall and basked everything in a mild, golden light.

Julian sighed and covered his face with his arm, unwilling to accept that the atmosphere of the loft reminded him of his meeting with Geralt. It was unfair how beautiful the angel was and how well the simple linen clothing had clung to his broad frame. With a shiver, Julian gave up on fighting the raw attraction he felt and how it began to manifest in his body.

His fingernails trailed down his chest, scraping his warm skin under the soft mat of his body hair, following the pulse of lust that fuelled the burning need between his legs. Slowly, he cupped his half hard length with his palm and began to work himself, his breath hitching every time he reached the sensitive head of his erection. He lazily spread the small trickle of his precum over his sensitive skin and sped up his pace. Sparks flew in his wandering mind as he imagined how the angels large hands would feel on him, grabbing his cock, gliding up and down. Softly, tentatively at first. But then harder, carried away by the simmering lust they were sharing.

The demon moaned and arched his back, digging his heels into the softness of the bed as he came within seconds, covering his abdomen with his warm seed. He collapsed back into the silk cushions and allowed reality to stay outside of his mind for a while. Eyes closed, he just lay there, stroking himself through the afterglow of his orgasm before he drifted into a deep sleep.

The next morning brought the realization that he was indeed an idiot. Not because wanking off to the mental picture of his handsome enemy was sinfully inappropriate. Truth be told, he had never cared much about social conventions.  
But for a moment Julian had thought if he should start pursuing the real thing and that was definitively on a different sheet. He liked his head right where it was, firmly connected to his neck. Everybody knew what would happen to angels and demons who succumbed to their fateful attraction and these weren't happy stories at all. The price of treason was high. Too high.

The demon showered again and wistfully washed away the mess that covered his groin and his belly. Touching himself there again was quite a nice reminder of his overboarding fantasy. A fantasy. That was everything it was and could be, had to be.

Chosing between his most favourite suits was hard and it took him half an hours to decide for a black suit with an subtle floral pattern weaved into the fabric. He refrained from closing the two top buttons of his cream white shirt and checked his looks in the mirror.

Beautiful. As always. His stomach clenched uncomfortably as he recalled Geralt's reaction at their body contact. Julian knew that no matter how impeccable he looked, an angel would always only see and feel the rotten core inside of his, of a demonic body. But a small voice persistently reminded him that if that really was the case, if there was only disgust that would fill their mutual touches – why were there even rules that forbade a relationship between their kin?  
Going to Twilight Bridge went as smoothly as the day before. An instinct Hell had planted into his memory years ago helped him to relax his breathing and to focus on his genuine wish to travel to the refuge between the three realms of reality and the truce that had been settled between him and Geralt.

Seconds later, the dim landscape spread before Julian's eyes, crawling under his skin immediately with its pure, unnatural beauty. Although the place felt artificial, the demon just knew he was safe at Twilight Bridge and it helped to put his ever racing mind at ease.

The sky was a maelstrom of purple and light blue, bathing the fields and trees into an intense atmosphere. The warm wind rustled through the illusion of plants, grass and treelines, played with Julian's dark hair and caressed his skin.  
The demon exhaled and rubbed his hands, suddenly as nervous as a novice facing his final vows. Well, in fact he _didn't_ > know how a real novice felt, but he could imagine, as he had seduced many young men into failing their vows quite gloriously. 

“Can we start?” The angel's voice rang from behind his back. It sounded strained and hoarse. Julian flinched and whipped around, taken aback by the view of Geralt's body just inches away from his own. The angel could have killed him easily for letting his guard down and the demon hoped it wasn't only Twilight Bridge's rules that kept the celestial figure from closing his large hands around Julian throat and strangling him.

“Geralt. Ever heard of knocking?”, Julian joked half-heartedly and hoped the other man wouldn't notice he couldn't but stare. That day, the angel wore the flattering light linen ensemble again, but there were not more signs of bandages covering his chest. Julian felt relieved by the sight and a small smile emerged on his face.

“There is no door, demon.”

Damn, Julian thought. That angel sounded dead serious and deeply annoyed. There was no sign of humour on his stony face.

“Erm, right. My mistake. Don't angels ever jest?”, Julian asked, desperately trying to start a proper conversation again.

“They do. That was question number two.” The answer was as dry as the Namib desert.

Julian rolled his eyes about his own idiocy again. Damn, he had been tricked by an angel. That was embarrassing and -. Oh. Did Geralt just smirk? Julian blinked in surprise. Indeed the angel's lips quivered in an unsuccessfull attempt to hold back his amusement. It was quite a sight to observe how an enchanting warmth appeared in Geralt's eyes, turning the yellow of his iris into a shade of dark amber.

“You're better at this than I thought”, Julian admitted and bowed mockingly to distract himself from his arousal. Hell, that smile did very strange things to his crotch and his trousers suddenly felt uncomfortably tight again. He just hoped the angel wouldn't look down and notice the bulge that pressed against the black fabric.

“I think I have killed demons for their silly games a long time before you were even brought into this world”, Geralt replied and his brows furrowed in disdain. It seemed like the angel had reminded himself that he was conversing with the enemy. Julian suppressed a sigh, but refused to respond to the sudden change of tonality.

“I am glad to see your wounds are healed”, the demon declared cheerfully and sauntered through the high grass, throwing a suggestive glance over his shoulder. The white haired angel sighed and followed, bound by the promise he had made. “I hope you found your sword. If you didn't, it wasn't my fault, I assure you.”

“It was where you told me. Thank you.”

“So polite today”, Julian grinned and finally sat down by one of the silver creeks that crossed the wide grasslands. The soft mumbling of water rushing over pebbles was soothing and he stared down into the crystal clear stream because he didn't dare to look up. He still _felt_ that Geralt sat down by his side without hesitation and something inside his chest snapped. “So, let's get it over with. I know you can't stand my presence. – What does this sword mean to you?” 

Yes, he definitively sounded like self-pity and yearning. Fuck that. 

“It was my mentor's sword. It was crafted more than thousand years ago. Vesemir, he - died in a battle against the Forgotten two months ago.”

There was so much grief in these low spoken words that Julian's demon personality immediately wanted feast from the hurt. He decided against it without a second thought and his instincts screamed and writhed in his body. A snarl wanted to emerge from his throat, so he bit his lips with his pointy canines, drawing two small drops of blood.

“I am sorry for your loss”, he murmured and tried very hard not to extend a hand and cover the angel's fingers that rested on the soft ground between their bodies. Fingers he had been fantasizing about since their first encounter.

“Don't soil his death with your false pity, demon.” Geralt's voice was filled with disgust, a deep, dark growl that send spirals of lust and anger through Julian's guts. The demon's focus shifted from the angel's hands back to the scarred face, twisted in an odd expression that was hard to read. The amber eyes looked so torn, so desperate and so unbearably furious that Julian wasn't sure what he felt. Julians anger about the accusation had already faded away at that point.

“Angels don't have a monopoly on sorrow”, the demon muttered defiantly and leaned closer, just an inch, very aware what had happened the day before. But he was driven by his need to be near Geralt, smell him, observe the slight changes on the angel's scarred features, get a grip on these elusive moments that would end so soon. “Or on genuine pity.”

“You brought your sorrow upon yourself. It's part of your corrupted nature. That's not at all comparable”, the angel spat and gritted his teeth. The white haired man avoided direct eye contact. Julian was surprised that a warrior who could best two Forgotten creatures proved to be unable to stand a direct confrontation with a young demon. So he decided he would press ahead a little bit more insistently. What did the humans say? Curiosity killed the cat?

“I brought _nothing_ upon myself, as I didn't chose to be born a demon. As you didn't chose to be an angel. An unhappy one, if I recall it correctly.” Julian's anger boiled up again, acid and cutting, this time. It was mingled with cautious anticipation as he went on: “But what I did chose was how I wanted to shape my life. So maybe you should talking about things you just presume.”

Geralt went rigid and exhaled slowly, visibly struggling to find a fitting retort. His confusion changed the look on his face, softened the sharp line of his jaw and his lips.

“Meeting you was a mistake”, the angel rumbled and ran his finger through his hair, loosening the tie that held the long white strands in a neat braid. The leather band fell to the ground and disappeared between the purple and green grass blades.

“It was”, Julian admitted, suddenly feeling sad and hollow. He had clearly been out of his mind, investing so much hope in an encounter that the forces of destiny regulated so thoroughly. A hope he couldn't even define, because he had to admit that Geralt did something to him that did not only affect his body. “I thought this would be fun, but it turns out all I do is upsetting you and all you do is judging me. So let's forget his non-starter and just leave.”

The demon leaped to his feet elegantly, suddenly tired of the impact his inner conflict had on him. It was him who should be in charge of the situation, but no, he had allowed his cravings to be a poor counsellor. This needed to end before something really terrible happened.

“No.” The angels snarl was the first to hit, then a massive form appeared behind Julian and two strong arms yanked him around, gripping the broad lapels of his jacket, lifting him off his feet. Some seams ripped open, but the fabric withstood the attack. Geralt's eyes had narrowed to menacing slits and his hands, even if their grip seemed to be effortless, trembled in the strangest way. “You will not leave me being in your debt, demon.”

“G'rlt”, the demon croaked, wriggling and squirming, leaning back in some fruitless attempt to escape. There was no way he could shake off the angel's hands without resorting to violence, but Julian knew this was a bad idea.

Twilight Bridge and the competing realms that had created it would never leave any violence unpunished and Geralt had obviously forgotten about it, stuck in his current state of sorrow and anger. The demon knew he needed to break free – and that he didn't want Geralt to be penalized for losing his temper. It was Julian's fault this had happened, after all. So he did the one thing that came to his mind and that would be shocking enough to effectively distract the angel for good.

Julian's hands clasped on Geralt's thick neck and he pressed their lips together in a frenzy. He told himself he only did it because the angel would naturally shy away from the disgust he would be feeling when a demon touched him. But as soon as their mouths collided, Julian's connection to the world outside dissolved into a blur of want, of sizzling heat that meandered through his veins and pulsed between his legs, filling his member with blood again.

He moaned, realized that this had been another major mistake and prepared mentally to be pushed away. But then Geralt's tongue licked his lower lip and slid into his mouth, wet and deliciously intrusive. It was so, so good and Julian knew he was indeed lost.


	5. Business and pleasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little spicy between the angel and the demon. But it's just lust, right? ^^
> 
> Please leave a comment for a thirsty little writer. :D

Geralt emanated fury as he suddenly let go of Julian's jacket and grabbed his hips instead. He violently pulled him close and the demon collided with a broad body that radiated an unnatural, torrential heat that engulfed him and sent his head into a heavy spin.

While their mouths met again and their tongues battled furiously, Julian gasped as he felt their groins touched. The angel was as aroused as Julian had been all the time. The veritable bulge in Geralt's trousers pressed against the demon's own covered erection and he couldn't but rub himself against the sign of arousal the angel couldn't deny.

The friction of his trouser's fabric against his member sent bolts of lust through Julian's abdomen and he moaned hoarsely as he grabbed Geralt's ass to increase the pressure to a level that exceeded lust and turned into an exquisite pain.

Playfully, he bit the angel's lower lip and received a growl that left him nearly boneless in Geralt's arms. The last bits of Julian's reasonable thinking took off the moment they tumbled down to the ground, the angel leading their way with unexpected care. The demon laughed heatedly against Geralt's shallow breath as his back touched the soft grass and his thighs pressed against the angel's hips to keep him right there, pinning him down with his weight.

“It's not supposed to feel like this”, the angel mumbled and his confusion sent a jolt of joy through the demon's body. 

They weren't only sharing this strange, heated attraction, they even experienced something both of them had never felt before. Julian's heart somersaulted under his ribs, but then his concentration faded away again, as Geralt feverishly tugged at his jacket and shirt, sending buttons everywhere as he finally yanked down the smooth fabric to expose Julian's chest.

The demon chuckled and helped his lover because he was eager to feel the angel's lips on his bare skin. As Geralt's mouth left his lips to explore his neck and the thin skin over him hammering pulse, a new wave of lust shot through Julian's groin. The angel was as bold as he had expected it, kissing and licking his way further down. A warrior who pursued his goal without hesitation.

Sharp teeth nipped Julian's pert nipples and he moaned in delight, entangling his fluttering fingers with the angel's white hair. Geralt covered his abdomen and the sensitive skin just over the waistline of his trousers with hungry kisses.

It was the sound of the zipper that catapulted Julian back into reality and he cursed himself for the sudden outburst of bad conscience. He was a demon, he told himself, a trickster. He had proven hundreds of times he could escape every dangerous situation and he knew he shouldn't be afraid of what could happen when they went on. But it turned out he wasn't worried for himself.

“Geralt, love, I don't think -. They could find out.” He stumbled over his own words. What, in hell, had just come over him? Calling an enemy 'love'? His mind revolted, but his body knew this was right. When Geralt stopped, leaning over him with an inquisitive glance, Julian's hips bucked up against the angel's massive tights.

“Then why did you start this?”, Geralt growled and tried to find his answers in Julian's eyes. The demon trembled as the angel's large hands slid into his trousers, revealing that he didn't like underwear. “It's your game. Say a word and I'll stop.” Julian moaned with pleasure as Geralt's fingers closed around his throbbing shaft and pressed it lightly. “Yes or no, demon?”

“Do it!”, Julian hissed and his head fell back into the soft grass as his lover carefully covered the sensitive tip of his length and caressed the sensitive flesh with careful, experienced strokes. “- feels so good. ”

The angel just hummed and as Julian dared to look at his lover again, he witnessed a strange expression crossing Geralt's scarred face. It was desperation, mingled with deep sadness and something else that seemed to be inexplicable fondness. 

Julian's chest tightened with desire and amazement and he pulled Geralt up for another kiss. He moaned against the angel's lips, sucking in frantic breaths as the strokes became faster and faster. Sparks of lust raced through his cock and his balls tightened. A familiar heat pooled in his groin and he gasped and panted as he came hard, painting Geralt's hand and his own belly with his warm seed.

The orgasm left him satisfied and speechless for a while, but then a giggle rose from his chest. Geralt stared down at him and raised his brows in confusion. 

“What's so funny, demon?”, the angel murmured and wiped his cum stained hand at his own shirt. Julian smirked and was glad his lover didn't seem to be upset about his outburst. Instead, Geralt looked relaxed for the first time since they had met, even though the pensive wrinkles on his forehead seemed to have deepened during the last minutes.

“I never thought an angel would make me come like a babe in the woods”, Julian snickered and exhaled deeply, enjoying the feeling of the soil under his back. The waves of lust still hovered in his abdomen, warm and luxurious. “Thank you.”

Geralt dropped into the grass at his side and together, they stared into the changing purple and blue sky for a while. Soft clouds moved in the artificial wind, forming and reforming into soothing patterns.

“They told me a demon's touch hurts.” The angel's voice sounded bewildered and almost dreamlike. Julian tilted his head to find out what was on Geralt's mind. “And none of my kin lies.”

“Maybe you kind just didn't tell you everything. Strictly speaking, that's not lying.”

Geralt barked a laugh and covered his face with his arm, denying Julian to read the expression of his amber eyes.

“That's what a demon would say. Once a con man, always a con man.”

“Guilty as charged.” Julian shrugged and didn't feel insulted at all, as he could spot a tiny smile on Geralt's sensual lips. “But I think you secretly enjoyed what happened. Although none of us – should enjoy it.”

“They told you the same, demon?”

“ _The only way to touch an angel should be with the tip of a sword_ ,” Julian repeated what he had heard time and time again and anger tightened his throat as he realized that he had been indeed deceived about a fundamental part of his life. “And please, I do have a first name you should use. Now, that we have deepened our – acquittance.”

The angel sighed deeply. Suddenly, there was regret in his dark voice.

“We should end this, Julian. Just release me from our trade. Forget about these questions and move on.”

A pang of suspicion arose in the demon's guts and he snickered, now that he realized he had nearly blundered into the trap the angel had set up for him. Oh, this was really fun.

“You – wanked me off because you hoped it would make me feel like I owed you”, Julian stated, matter-of-factly, not phrasing his words as a question. He knew he should feel angry or betrayed, but everything he could sense deep inside of his soul was curiosity and fascination. “But I saw that look in your eyes, angel. You wanted this. You knew the risk, but you did it anyway and I wonder why. So if you want me to release you from our little agreement, you have to give me more than a proper jerk-off.”

“Are you trying to blackmail me?”, Geralt growled and his arm dropped away from his face. He looked puzzled and scared. Julian's heart did something strange behind his ribcage. So he shook his head to clear his thoughts and sat up, looking down at the powerful body that still rested on the soft purple of the grass. Vulnerable, Julian thought. Exposed.

“Let me be clear about his. I would never trade sex for these three last and very valuable questions.” The demon found it astonishing how solemn his voice could sound when he wanted something. “You know, I am intrigued. You looked so sad when you held my cock. I mean, there were a lot of people who cried over it because it's glorious, but -.”

“Demon.” The angel's voice was deeply annoyed now. “Just don't -.”

“Talk about my cock?”, Julian smiled seductively. “Five minutes ago, you were quite interested in it. But you're a lucky man, as I like an oral exchange and consider returning the favor.” His tongue flickered over his lips and he chuckled in delight as he saw how Geralt's beautiful eyes widened. “I mean, you – as an angel, I might point out – just tried to manipulate me with sex to escape our deal. How shocking! But I am willing to forget about that little detail and return to our initial agreement. And now, I really want to taste you.”

Julian's fingers brushed over the linen of Geralt's trousers and he could feel the muscles of the angel's thigh moving under the fabric as the large man shifted under his touch.

“It's still blackmailing”, the angel rumbled, but his breathing quickened and Julian knew he had won. Nevertheless, he bent down to place a chaste kiss on Geralt's lips.

“You misunderstood me. We are even, at this very moment.” Julian stared down into the angel's tensed face and wondered why he was in such a generous mood. Maybe the jerk-off had something to do with it. Or maybe – something he couldn't describe. “Just say no, my heavenly creature, and I will accept it and leave. Then we will meet tomorrow for the last time and finish our trade.”

“Just like that?” The angel's voice hitched as Julian's mouth began to wander.

“Just.” The demon bit Geralt's ear playfully and licked down to the angel's collar. He tasted sweat and the unique tingle of excitement on his tongue. “Like.” His hands pushed up the angel's linen shirt and revealed a broad chest that was as scarred as Geralt's face. Sculpted flesh of the finest kind, dusted with dark hair that emphasized the perfect clefts between the different muscle strands. “This.” His tongue circled the angel's nipples and a triumphant grin spread over his face as his hand traced back to Geralt's trousers and felt the outline of the massive cock that was still hard. “So eager for my touch, my angel? What's your answer?”

He stroked Geralt's length slowly, enjoying the form that fitted perfectly between his fingers.

“Julian, I – yes.”

The young demon shivered as he heard the desperate plea that dropped from Geralt's lips. Like a man starving, he longed to taste what his fingers caressed through the fabric and his body trembled with anticipation as he finally pushed Geralt's trousers down and knelt between the angel's tights.

“I will make you feel so good, love”, Julian murmured, admiring the view before he bent his head and sucked the angel's cock into his mouth. It felt velvety and solid under his probing tongue. Geralt's hips twitched and Julian hummed against the angel's length, amused about the eagerness he felt in his lover.

He took his time to savor the sensation of being with somebody who truly enjoyed his touch, without fear, without resentment. It was pure joy to lick over the thick veins and the engorged tip of Geralt's cock, to hear how the angel's mumbling voice faded away until he was nothing more than a moaning mess under Julian's experienced lips and tongue. The demon hollowed his cheeks to suck harder and dared to slide one hand between Geralt's tights, cradling his balls, pressing into the sensitive spot just below.

“I'm close”, the angel panted and his large hands tried to pull Julian up, but the demon was persistent in what he wanted – and he wanted everything. Geralt's hands froze as the angel realized he would be allowed to cum down Julian's throat and with a roar, he finally lost control. His hip bucked one more time and then, his seed spurted into Julian's mouth, bitter and salty.

The demon swallowed happily what he received and released the softening cock from his mouth with a content sigh.

“I told you I would make you feel good”, he smiled and sat up again, wiping his lips with his hand. Geralt's trembling body was quite a sight, the amber eyes still hazed over by the aftermath of lust. The angel's face was flushed and entranced by the feelings he had been through. “Hell, you're gorgeous”, Julian mumbled and sighed, suddenly aware of how unbelievably dumb they had been. Still, he didn't regret anything.

It took them a while to recover and dress again. Geralt evades Julian's gaze, but when they parted, the angel's eyes were filled with self-reproach.

“We shouldn't do that again”, Geralt rasped, face exhausted by something that went far beyond normal exertion. “We can't.”

Julian nodded and concentrated on closing his shirt, which proved to be difficult with all the missing buttons. He felt sad and didn't understand why. This was a bargain, wasn't it? Maybe it was better to treat this like a matter of business. In the end, professionalism would spare them from behind decapitated if someone ever found out what they had been doing.

“I agree, Geralt. We should put an end to this tomorrow." The demon was proud of how serene his voice sounded. "And I assure you that after three questions and three answers, all will be over.”

Geralt nodded sharply and left Twilight Bridge without another word. Julian stayed behind and just wished they had never met.


	6. A lost cause

He wasn't sentimental. No, really, he wasn't. He just liked to hang out on cemeteries after dusk, feeling sorry for his stupid ass in front of a beautiful marble statue depicting an avenging angel.

Julian wanted to tear his hair out. Nothing he had planned had worked out. On the contrary, he was tumbling from one catastrophe into the next one.

Stealing the sword had been some sort of a nice little challenge, a joust for power that had ended badly. But the feeling of a metal tip piercing his shoulder was nothing in comparison to the pain he felt now. The more he thought about Geralt, the more it became clear there was between them Julian couldn't grasp.

Or was he the only one who felt this way? Was Geralt as annoyed as he pretended to be every time they met? Had the angel only given in to the sexual encounter to end their connection as soon as possible?

Julian buried his face in his hands. The tips of his claws cut into his scalp, but the piercing sensation was no distraction. Why did he feel that Geralt was supposed to be a part of his existence? From the moment they had met, a part of Julian's non-existent soul had known they were meant to be together. A demon and an angel. The most unlikely combination between the realms of reality.

It drove him insane.

He stayed there for the whole night, cursing the marble statue that proved to be hard to impress. As the sun began to rise, he realized it would be his last day at Twilight Bridge. Julian stared at the bloodied tips of his fingers and his crumpled suit that still reeked of sex. He knew he should fly home and dress up again, pretend he wasn't at all shaken by the turn of events. One final, brilliant performance.

So he did what he had planned, but going through his usual morning routine felt odd and almost dream-like. His thoughts hovered through cotton-candy emotions dwelling up in his chest, sweet and fuzzy. The cold shower helped a bit, but only to the point when he stood in front of his wardrobe and had to choose what he would be wearing for the occasion of his heartbreak.

His best funeral attire seemed to be perfect. Black suit, white shirt, and a slim tie. He spent a ridiculous amount of time on his hair. But when he checked his look in the mirror, the only thing he could see was the most disgusting being in the world. That was how Geralt would possibly perceive him. An abomination. 

Just as it should be, he told himself and straightened his shoulders. Time to shine.

Twilight Bridge welcomed him with a red and gold sky and a warm breeze that reminded him of a tender caress. He rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. His feet wanted to start a nervous pace, but he pulled himself together, mustering all of his strength to stay calm.

Julian wasn't ready to show his pain to the world – and especially not to Geralt. He would tuck it away, like a very special little present wrapped in bloody red paper, so beautiful and yet so devastating that he never wanted to look at it again.

There were challenges ahead he needed to concentrate on. Taking his revenge on that prick Lambert, for example. That ass hole had betrayed him. He didn't know how long it would take to ruin the other demon thoroughly, but Julian had all of the time in the world and he would enjoy every minute.

The scent of grass and honey filled his nostrils and his head dropped, but merely an inch. Geralt was there, just in time for the final act. Julian gulped down the lump in his throat and turned around elegantly.

“Ah”, he smiled broadly and arched his eyebrows. “There you are. Thought you wouldn't come.”

The angel was standing six feet away, magnificent as ever. The light of the sky bathed him into hues of crimson and gold. It looked as if someone had set him on fire and the image was so vivid that Julian had to look away. 

“You know I'm bound by my promise.” The angel's voice sounded strangely exhausted. Suddenly, Julian recalled how Geralt had looked the day before. Shivering from the force of his orgasm, white hair spread on the ground like a fucking halo. So pliant, so vulnerable. Like a real person who had given in to his needs, who had left the realms of Heavens to be himself for one fateful day.

“Yes, yes.” Julian waved the solemn words away, trying hard to keep his nonchalant composure. He was so ready to end this as soon as possible. “No reason to be such a bore, little flutterly. Alright, time to finish our little deal. My last three questions are: why are you scarred and other angels aren't? How would you rate my outfit today? And -?”

“Stop it, Julian.” Geralt reduced the distance between them within the blink of an eye. His brows were furrowed, his amber eyes filled with rage. “Is this a new game? Why don't you ask really important questions? That could confer an advantage?”

Julian groaned as Geralt's clean smell worked itself into his brain, reminding him of how the other man tasted, sounded – it was too much.

“Get away from me”, the demon hissed and finally allowed his hurt to bleed through. His voice quivered. “I am not the monster you want to see in me. And you aren't what I expected. I made a mistake – alright! You got me! Don't draw this out longer than necessary. And yes, I do have an important question!” He knew he shouldn't allow the words to leave his mouth, but he had never been good at self-controlling himself anyway. “Have we met before, Geralt?”

The angel was dumbstruck. His eyes widened in shock and something Julian would call desperation.

“I -.” Geralt's lips moved, but at first, there was no sound. Then, he stared down at the iridescent grass. His answers were short and barely audible. “All angels are scarred, but we can choose if we show our wounds. Your outfit is – you look fine.” 

Julian's hands clenched into fists by his side. Everything he wanted to do was to leap forward and stop Geralt from answering the final question, but he knew he shouldn't. Yes, he had told the angel just the opposite, that he wanted this to end, but the truth was – he would never be happy again without Geralt by his side.

“Come on, angel. I have better things to do than waiting for your pathetic ethereal stutter.” Julian hated to lash out at Geralt, but he knew he could be extremely efficient when it came to hurting other people. “Searching for a better fuck, for example.”

The angel's head whipped up again. Julian expected disgust for his cheap tricks, but he only found indifference in Geralt's glance.

“Yes, Julian. I think - I know we have met before. I don't know when and where. But we will never find out.”

Julian wanted to scream, to shred something with his claws, but he refused to give himself away. Game over.

“Goodbye”, he managed to say with a forced smile. The angel tilted his head in an extremely calm and polite way. “See you around, Geralt.”

Their time at Twilight Bridge was over, Julian felt it in his bones. As the tuck of reality became stronger, he gave in to the sensation of being torn apart, because that was exactly how he felt inside.

The moment he crashed back to earth, his coherent thinking ended. It was replaced by an endless stream of emotions and impulsive decisions. Convulsive sickness followed the frenzy of drunk stupor. He collapsed under a table in a rundown nightclub and woke up in an alley behind a meat-packing plant.

People spat at him. Somebody stole his purse and his keys. A kid laughed at him as he howled into the plain air, standing on a street in front of his favorite cinema.

Sometimes there was remorse, sometimes a rage so sharp that he saw white flashes at the backside of his eyelids. 

It ended a week later. Or maybe ten days. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he stumbled into his loft apartment, using his spare key. His jacket and tie were long gone and his arms scratched and bruised. He briefly wondered if he had harmed someone during his blackout, but he was too exhausted to check the media.

His reflection stared back at him with bloodshot eyes and he smashed his hand into the bathroom mirror. Blood dripped from his knuckles, but he didn't feel any pain. An intense wrenching sob shot through his body, more a dry heave than real tears. The glass shower stall finally encircled him like a cage. Too hot water gushed down on his weary head. He sat down in the middle of the cabin and hugged his knees.

Five hundred years of war and peace, of winning and losing – all being reduced to ashes in his memory. He knew something wasn't right. His remorse had never been this intense, his grief never been so devastating. Julian's whole existence as a demon had only served one purpose: to feed on humankind's desolation, to deprive them of the slightest glimmer of hope.

Now, he was trapped in the dark pit of his own nature. There was no way out.

The sweet scent of honey crawled into his head and he crumpled onto the wet tiles, watched how dirt and blood disappeared in the drain. His brain played cruel tricks on him, he told himself numbly as the smell persisted, even grew stronger.

Someone murmured his name, in a low, concerned voice and Julian just chuckled breathlessly. There was no way this could be the reality. Maybe he was asleep. Or on drugs. Dreaming of something he would never have, something he had missed for all of his life without even knowing that he needed it until this very moment.

He was being pulled up gently. Warm fingers stroked his face, pushed away the dark strands of his wet hair. Julian didn't resist, eyes pressed close. If this was a dream, he didn't want to wake. His unresponsive body was dragged into a strong lap. Firm hands held him, caressed his back, his trembling shoulders. 

“Julian”, the voice rasped, again. “I'm here. Open your eyes.”

And he did. It was Geralt. The angel had come for him. Probably to kill him, to get proper revenge for the humiliation he had suffered from Julian's hands. It was only logical, now that Twilight Bridge no longer protected him from Geralt's wrath.

Julian didn't mind. He was tired. If this was the face of death, he would welcome it with a smile.


End file.
